


There's a knock knock joke here somewhere

by Thei



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crushes, Fluff, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, camboy fic, dumbasses taking forever to realize their feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:55:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21824023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thei/pseuds/Thei
Summary: Steve and Billy are roommates.Steve has kind of developed a crush on his roommate.Steve has also never learned how to knock, and keeps walking in on his roommate in increasingly weird situations.None of them handle it very well.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 42
Kudos: 302
Collections: Harringrove Holiday Exchange 2019





	There's a knock knock joke here somewhere

**Author's Note:**

  * For [socknonny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/socknonny/gifts).



> Huge thanks to Lemonlovely, who was kind enough to read through this for me. (I then changed some things, so if there are still any mistakes they are mine and mine alone.)

“What the _actual_ fuck, man, haven’t anyone ever taught you how to knock?”

Steve looked around the room he’d just entered. Billy was just sitting by his desk, in front of his laptop, surrounded by a veritable mountain of textbooks, and yet he was frowning and gesturing as if Steve walked in on him _masturbating_ or something. And besides –

“I knocked!”

“Yeah”, Billy drawled, “and then you walked right in, without waiting for a confirmation. What if I’d been naked in here?”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “And how would that be different from literally any other day?”

(Because after sharing a tiny apartment with Billy Hargrove for almost eight months, Steve was pretty sure that the guy was _actually_ allergic to wearing shirts.)

(And possibly pants, too.)

“This is my room, Harrington. You can’t keep barging in here. There’s such a thing as personal space. Ever heard of it?”

Steve rolled his eyes, because this discussion was getting old. Back when he was living at home, his mother would always knock and then enter his room without waiting for an answer. She’d done it since he was a kid, and it was just a _thing_ in the Harrington house, so was it really so strange if he was doing the same now? It was probably learned behavior or something. Either way, he saw no reason to change now, even though (or possibly _because_ ) Billy kept complaining about it.

Actually, Billy kept complaining about a lot of things. Like Steve not picking up after himself, or Steve’s awful cooking, or the way Steve never cleaned up, or did the laundry – and honestly, that last one was kinda unfair, since Steve was perfectly able to do his own laundry, thank you very much, it was just that Billy usually got to it before Steve had a chance to. And maybe, slightly, because it had happened – on occasion – that Steve had accidentally worn something of Billy’s because Steve didn’t have any clean clothes at the time.

Okay, so maybe Steve hadn’t done much of their laundry, lately.

Or ever.

The _point_ was, it wasn’t like Billy was the perfect roommate, either. He had a job, outside his studies, which made him come and go at random during all hours of the day. Steve was a light sleeper, okay, so he usually woke up when Billy came back (or left), and it could take him hours to fall back asleep. Also, the aforementioned nagging. Billy was always on his case about something.

When they went to school together back in Hawkins, Steve never would have pegged Billy as the kind of person to care so much about household chores. Steve kinda wished he could tell the kids at home about it – but he actually hadn’t told them that he was sharing an apartment with _Billy Hargrove_ , yet. He had planned to, right at the beginning, but then he … forgot. Or, you know, figured that they didn’t really need to know that, and he didn’t really need the drama that such a revelation would cause.

It didn’t matter, anyway. Billy had changed. Actually, both he and Billy were different people now, than they were back then.

Billy was a hard worker, for once. While _Steve’s_ stay here was being paid for by his parents (who weren’t happy with his chosen field, but who paid anyway, since they were convinced it was just a phase), Billy apparently had to work to afford even such basic things as rent and food, not to mention textbooks.

In light of that, it made a certain sort of sense that Steve (or rather, Steve’s parents) paid the majority of the rent. And, because Steve was basically a slob and Billy … well, _wasn’t_ … it also made sense that in return, Billy took care of the aforementioned cooking, and cleaning, and laundry. Not without complaining about it, but. He did it.

It’d been a system that had worked for them for more than half a year now. It meant that Billy could get enough hours of sleep to avoid stumbling to class (or work) looking like a zombie, like he did in the beginning, and it also allowed Steve to spend time in their small living space without being overwhelmed by guilt about not doing his chores.

And about the cooking, well, Steve’s cooking had always been atrocious. Everyone said so. He’s pretty sure the only reason why he didn’t die of scurvy in the last year before graduation was that Mrs Henderson took pity on him and invited him over for dinner once a week.

His lack of culinary skill was why he usually ordered in. Which was what he’d done right now, so Billy really shouldn’t be complaining about something as insignificant as personal space.

“So you _don’t_ want pizza?” Steve asked, innocently.

Billy narrowed his eyes, and then he sighed and slammed his laptop shut.

“I always want pizza.”

Steve grinned. “I know. I ordered your favorite.”

Five minutes later, they were situated in opposite corners of the couch, lazily watching TV and talking. Steve complained about his internship, which kept messing with his sleeping schedule, and Billy called him a prissy bitch and laughed at him with his mouth full of half-eaten pizza.

Charming, really.

The worst thing was that Steve really _did_ find it kind of charming. When they moved in together he never would have thought that he would have used that word in correlation with Billy Hargrove, but fast-forward eight months and here he was; fondly watching Billy stuff half a pizza slice into his mouth and then gesturing wildly with the other half and ranting about something that his professor had apparently said.

Billy was often complaining about his teachers, and his fellow students, and other people in general. It would have been annoying, if Steve hadn’t learned that the reason why Billy was complaining about other people’s stupidity was that Billy was smart. Like, top of his class-smart. Which was also something that Steve hadn’t known back in Hawkins, but really started to appreciate now.

Billy was also refreshingly honest, and surprisingly funny, and really, _really_ hot.

Yeah, so Steve might have developed a little crush on his enemy-turned-roommate.

It was honestly a little inconvenient, and more than a little demoralizing. Because Billy was the biggest flirt on campus – he was said to be able to charm the pants off anyone, with no regards to age or gender – and while he only went home with girls, he basically flirted with anything with a pulse.

Except for Steve.

While seemingly everyone else seemed to warrant at least a sexy wall-lean or a smarmy smile, Billy always dropped all kind of pretense as soon as it was just the two of them. It was just Steve’s luck; everyone else got the smooth and charismatic Billy, and Steve got the Billy who once woke him up by dumping all of his laundry – still wet – on Steve’s face because he’d forgotten to empty the washing machine the previous night, and who constantly called him pet names just to rile him up.

Like now. “You’re awfully quiet, pretty boy, what’s rattling around under all that hair?”

Steve didn’t comment on the ‘pretty boy’, because he was so far gone that he’d happily take the pet names, even though he knew they were said in jest.

“Nothing. Just, I don’t know. I’ve got a lot on my mind, I guess.” He fixed his gaze on the TV without really watching it.

Billy raised an eyebrow in silent encouragement.

“I don’t wanna talk about it”, Steve said, shrugging, hoping Billy would just drop it.

And Billy … did. He snatched up a piece of pizza from Steve’s box and grinned at Steve’s indignant ‘hey!’ before he held out his own box and offered up a piece of his own pizza in exchange. They usually ended up sharing their takeout food between them, mainly because Steve always had a hard time deciding what to get and typically decided half-way through that he’d rather have what Billy was having.

(They’d come a long way from that first time, when Billy had actually stabbed him in the hand with a fork for reaching over and stealing a couple of sweet-potato fries off his plate. Steve still had four tiny marks on his hand.)

“Are you gonna be home early tomorrow?” Billy asked after a while, eyes flitting between the TV and the phone in his hand.

“No”, Steve said. “I’ve got the internship, I probably won’t be home ‘til nine. Why?” He couldn’t help himself, adding, “You got a date?”

Billy grinned at him – the kind that showed a lot of teeth but didn’t reach his eyes.

“Maybe.” He waggled his eyebrows. “So _knock_ when you get home, will you?”

“Hang a fucking sock on the door then, man”, Steve said and got up, suddenly feeling irritated and like he needed to be elsewhere.

“Where are you going?” Billy said and threw his arm over the back of the couch.

“I have some reading to do.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie – he always had some reading to do, nowadays. The downside of college, he guessed.

Billy got up, too.

“Alright”, he said and reached for the remote to turn the TV over to a random sports channel. “Sit down.”

“I was gonna–“

“Nope”, Billy said. “You know you can’t get anything done in your room when you’re surrounded by distractions. Gimme your phone.”

Steve whined. “Oh come on!”

Billy said nothing, just held out his hand expectantly. Steve, pouting, gave him his phone and watched as Billy put it in his back pocket (how he made it fit was anyone’s guess – those jeans were _tight_ ). Sighing, Steve went and got his books from his room. Might as well take this opportunity to get something done.

Twenty minutes later, he was halfway through the third chapter of the book, and was chewing on a pencil while whatever game was on droned on in the background – the perfect background noise for studying.

(And ten minutes after _that_ , Billy wordlessly handed him a cup of hot chocolate – with chili powder and chocolate shavings, just the way Steve liked it – and brought his own cup into his room, without saying a word.)

* * *

Steve’s day had sucked. First, he’d overslept (and if he hadn’t stolen a couple of sandwiches that Billy had left in the fridge, he would have starved to death, probably, since he didn’t have time to make breakfast), and when he finally got to school he discovered that he’d read the wrong chapters and thus was wholly unprepared for the day’s discussion. At lunch, his phone died because he hadn’t charged it the previous evening, and he finally showed up at his internship – after stuffing his face with a burger while walking, since he knew he wouldn’t have time for dinner – only to find out that his mentor was home with the flu and he could have the evening off, something he hadn’t been informed about since his phone was dead.

He took the bus home, wishing for nothing more than crashing into bed and forgetting this whole day happened. It wasn’t until he reached the door of their apartment that he remembered.

There was an honest-to-god _sock_ on the door handle. Steve stared at it dumbly for several long seconds.

The sock had yellow winky smilies all over it.

He groaned out loud and shook his head in disbelief. He must have done something to piss off some higher power, for them to punish him like this. He’d done the best he could to ignore his crush – and he could handle the rumors of Billy flirting, and he could handle seeing Billy flirting – but he didn’t think he could handle actually walking in on Billy hooking up with someone. Not in the apartment that the two of them shared. And _especially_ not after the day he’d had.

He leaned against the door and threw his head back, smacking it against the wood. He felt a little like crying, and wouldn’t that be the perfect ending of this shit day?

But then, suddenly, his despair turned to anger. So what if Billy was hooking up with someone in there? So what if he put a sock on the door like he was a character in a damn teen movie? This was Steve’s apartment too – he paid most of the rent, after all – and if Billy wanted privacy, he could take his dates somewhere else.

Steve unlocked the door and ripped the sock off in one motion before he barged in. Prepared for whatever he was going to see, he opened his mouth to comment –

– but no sound came out.

Billy was lying in the couch, propped up on a couple of pillows that he must have brought out from his bedroom (because they didn’t _do_ decorative pillows). He was shirtless, with his golden curls splayed out on the pillow behind his head, and he was wearing his tightest jeans. _Only_ his tightest jeans.

The jeans were _unbuttoned_.

He was also, very clearly, alone.

When Steve rushed in, Billy froze with one hand stretched out in front of him and the other on his stomach (it had obviously been heading further south, and that thought alone made Steve’s brain glitch). He looked like a painting – like something that should be framed and hung in a museum for the world to admire.

He was also staring at Steve like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, and Steve was busy staring right back. Neither one of them spoke or moved for a couple of seconds, and that’s how long it took for Steve to notice the phone in Billy’s hand.

Now, Steve would be the first to admit that Billy took good selfies. Steve had seen his Instagram, and there was no denying the fact that the guy knew how to take a good photo. There were a lot of different poses, a lot of cheeky facial expressions (that somehow still managed to look sexy), and several pictures of his abs, obviously taken in a mirror. This, though? This was something else entirely. It looked staged; bordering on indecent. And really, did he have to do this shit on the couch where Steve had his cereal in the morning?

“What the hell?!” Billy exclaimed and slammed his phone down in the couch, screen down. “What happened to knocking?!”

“This is my apartment too”, Steve said in defense, but Billy was already sitting up and buttoning his jeans.

“I put a fucking _sock on the door_ like a _douche_!” Billy shouted, scowling, and grabbed his pillows. “It was _your_ fucking idea!”

“What’s the big deal?” Steve said and gestured to the empty room. “There’s no one else here!”

Billy, for some reason, flushed at that, which inexplicably made Steve lick his lips and go on the offensive. “And by the way, if you want privacy to take your fucking selfies, you can keep it in your room.”

Billy, who’d made it all the way to his bedroom by now, whirled around and glared at him. “As if that’s a guarantee for privacy in this place!”

“Well then, lock the damn door!”

“Learn to fucking knock!” Billy yelled and disappeared into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Steve was left standing in the living room, holding a stupid sock in one hand and his keys in the other, opening and closing his mouth and feeling like an especially stupid goldfish. He had no idea what just happened, but there was one thing he was sure of.

“He’s such an _asshole_!”

* * *

Billy didn’t post any new pictures on his Instagram that day, _or_ the next, which led Steve to the obvious conclusion – it had been a snap. And that did nothing to improve Steve’s mood, because they weren’t friends on snapchat so even if it _hadn’t_ been a private snap (and he hoped it wasn’t a private snap) he wouldn’t be able to see it.

He was curious, that was all. So sue him.

* * *

The weekend passed, and they barely spoke two words to each other. Steve ran out the door in the morning without so much as a cup of coffee, and when he got home that night, Billy wasn’t home. On Saturday, it was Steve’s turn to stay clear of the apartment – he spent the night at a house party and got spectacularly drunk – and when he stumbled home sometime in the early hours of the morning, Billy’s door was closed. Steve woke up around noon, when Billy left for work and slammed the door shut, and spent the rest of Sunday nursing the hangover from hell.

That night, Billy came back late. He didn’t say anything, but he handed over a paper bag from Steve’s favorite diner (located on the other side of town). The bag contained two large containers of fries, and the biggest chocolate milkshake they had on the menu.

“Oh my god”, Steve moaned and reached into the bag, “I love you.” Then he froze. Shit. He didn’t mean to say that out loud, it just slipped out, it –

But Billy only snorted, and patted him on the shoulder before he went into the bathroom and started the shower.

And things were okay again, after that.

* * *

At least until two weeks later, when Steve’s study group was cancelled because of a flooding in the library, and they had to find somewhere else to be. Since Steve was the only one in his group who lived in an actual apartment – as opposed to a dorm – the others decided that his place was a suitable replacement for the library. Steve was given twenty minutes warning in advance of their changed plans, and was informed of this decision as he was sitting on the bus that would take him to the library.

“Fuck”, he muttered, got off at the next stop, and started jogging home.

He had about five minutes to spare when he got home and headed for Billy’s door, while throwing glances around the living room to see if he needed to do some last minute cleaning. He knocked, and walked in –

“Heads up, I’ve got some–“

– and snapped his mouth shut. Billy was working out – he had a barbell with weights in his hands, and he’d frozen in the middle of a lift so he was flexing his biceps and Steve’s mouth suddenly felt very dry. He cleared his throat.

“Um.”

Billy working out was not uncommon – the dude was obsessed, and if he didn’t work out at least five days a week he’d get grumpy and tense – but he usually wore _clothes_. Now, all he was wearing was a pair of (very tight) white underwear, and the necklace around his neck. He’d obviously been working up a sweat, as his skin was positively glistening. Steve couldn’t for the life of him look away, not even when Billy settled down his weights and took a couple of steps to his desk to push a button on his laptop, making the screen go black.

“Did you need something?” he prompted and assumed a pose that would have made him seem indifferent, if it wasn’t for the blush that was creeping up his face and all the way down his chest. It even touched the tip of his ears – something that Steve could clearly see, since Billy was currently wearing his hair in a messy bun.

Steve desperately wanted to loosen the hair tie and run his hands through Billy’s curls and _pull_.

He was jolted back to reality when Billy – face red and clearly annoyed – snapped his fingers in front of his eyes, which is when he realized that Billy had said something.

“Uh, what?”

“I _said_ ”, Billy drawled, “Did you _need_ something?”

Steve could think of a lot of things he needed right now – many of which he hadn’t known he needed thirty seconds ago – but he could acknowledge that listing off those things right now would be a _terrible_ idea, so he shook his head slightly and blinked.

“No. I just. Uh. My study group is coming over. In, like, five minutes. Thought you’d … thought you’d want to know.”

Billy frowned and glanced over at his desk. “Okay? And?”

Steve thought about his classmates, and how one girl in particular – Lydia, who had apparently just broken up with her boyfriend – had expressed her interest in Steve’s roommate before. He thought of her seeing Billy in this undressed state, and the thought made him uncomfortable.

“So, uh, if you could avoid walking around with no clothes on for a couple of hours, that’d be great.”

Billy narrowed his eyes. “Is that so? You barge into my room – _without knocking_ , by the way – to tell me I should steer clear of _my own apartment_ , when I was supposed to have the place to myself? What if I have plans?”

Steve, glancing at the time and mentally calculating when his classmates would show up, snorted distractedly.

“Yeah, looks like your schedule is pretty full, man.”

It was supposed to be a joke to dissolve the tension, but instead all it did was make Billy’s shoulders tense up and his eyes darken.

“Get the fuck out of my room.”

“What? No, I –“

“No, no, I get it.” He walked up to Steve and pushed him out of the room. “I’ll stay out of sight, so I won’t offend your friends’ delicate sensibilities, don’t you fucking worry.”

The door slammed shut in Steve’s face, and he stared at it for several seconds before he threw his arms out. “Billy, come on! I just meant, put some clothes on, maybe? Like a civilized person!”

“Fuck you, Harrington”, came Billy’s voice from the other side of the door.

Steve banged on it in frustration. Billy banged back, harder, and Steve took an instinctive step back. Just to be safe.

At that exact moment, the doorbell rang, making Steve jump. With a last glance over his shoulder, he went to answer the door and let his friends in.

* * *

It was a miserable study session, at least for Steve. He couldn’t concentrate at all. He kept glancing over at Billy’s door, half expecting him to strut out in nothing but his birthday suit just to be an ass. But the door stayed closed, and there wasn’t a sound from the other side.

It didn’t help that Lydia looked around the otherwise empty apartment and asked where Steve’s hot roommate was.

“I don’t know”, Steve mumbled. “I don’t think he’s home.”

She pouted, but got on with their assignment, and Steve? Steve spent the rest of their study session trying to avoid imagining bulging muscles and glistening skin.

It was a _miserable_ study session.

* * *

Billy avoided him for several days after that, and Steve couldn’t even blame him. He was pretty sure that he was the one in the wrong here, but while he knew he was getting the cold shoulder, he couldn’t quite figure out how to make it right again. It wasn’t like he could just buy flowers and apologize, like he would have with a girlfriend.

Not that Billy was even close to a girlfriend. First, he wasn’t a girl, second, he was barely even a friend, third, Steve was pretty sure that Billy was straight (even though he flirted with _everyone_ ), and fourth, Steve was the _last_ person Billy would be interested in, even _if_ he was into guys. Billy always called him a brat, and a slob, and complained about everything from his fashion sense to his inability to hold his liquor.

Honestly, _Billy_ should be the one apologizing to _Steve_ , at this point.

But also, like. Steve _had_ been kind of an asshole about it. What Billy did in his own room was really none of Steve’s business, even if he was watching work-out videos in his underwear like a weirdo. And, like, Steve didn’t really mind Billy walking around without clothes on – it just made it way harder to hide his own obvious interest.

Not that he needed to worry about that, nowadays. Billy hadn’t showed his face outside his room without wearing long-sleeved shirts – buttoned up, even! – since that day. It made Steve feel as if something was very wrong with the world, but he couldn’t exactly bring it up. Not after complaining about Billy walking around _without_ clothes.

He kind of missed it, though. Now, he had to rely on his imagination for his … um, late night sessions. Well, that, and the memories. He was pretty sure that the image of Billy working out in his underwear had been etched into his brain, for which he was forever grateful.

He knew it wasn’t healthy, harboring these kind of feelings for a person who would never, ever feel the same. He _knew_ that. So he tried to get over it. A couple of days later, Lydia from his study group asked if he wanted to go out for coffee, and he said yes. It wasn’t like he was into her, but. He needed to move on, and this was a first step towards that.

So, now he was trying to get ready for the date and had spent ten minutes trying to decide what to wear – he wanted something that said ‘I put some effort into this’ but that _didn’t_ cross the line to ‘because I like you’, because she was nice and all but he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression – when he realized that he was late and that he still needed to brush his teeth and fix his hair.

Rushing to the bathroom, he found it occupied. He groaned, and knocked on the door.

“What the fuck?” came from the other side, sounding a little strained. “I’m busy!”

“Come on”, Steve whined and checked the time. “Hurry up, will you? I’m late for a date.”

There was silence from the other side, which was honestly kind of rude, because Steve had given up the bathroom countless times before when Billy had been preparing for his dates.

“I just need my hairspray!” he tried. “And my toothbrush.” He hesitated. “Maybe my cologne.” Was this a ‘wearing cologne’ kind of date? He wasn’t sure.

He didn’t have time to come to a conclusion before the door swung open and Billy shouldered past him without a look, wearing only a towel ( _Steve’s_ towel, what the hell?), with damp hair and flushed skin as if he’d been showering. He looked _good_ , so Steve could maybe be excused for wanting to get more than a glimpse of him, saying “Did you shower?” and then wincing because _hello captain obvious_.

Billy seemed to echo that sentiment, turning his head and giving him an incredulous look, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘what do you _think_?’

Steve floundered. “I mean –“ And then he spotted the laptop in Billy’s hand, and because he had no filter, he blurted out, “Why did you bring your laptop to the bathroo–“

 _Oh_.

Billy blushed and Steve could feel his own cheeks heat up as well because he was suddenly a) aware of the fact that Billy was holding the device in front of his crotch and b) distracted by the thought of all the things that Billy could, in fact, have been doing with his laptop in there. Also now that he was aware of it, he noticed that the floor was dry, and that there was no steam coming from the bathroom. So Billy was obviously _not_ showering, just now.

Billy turned and left without a word, and if Steve was staring at his ass when he walked away, then that was just because it was Steve’s towel that he had wrapped around his waist. When Billy slammed the door to his room shut, Steve exhaled and dragged a hand through his hair before going into the – now vacant – bathroom.

* * *

He was late for the date, because he had to take a cold shower before he left.

* * *

The date, predictably, led nowhere – a fact that only made Steve more depressed, even though he hadn’t really wanted it to lead anywhere. But in the following weeks, his lack of love life got all the more noticeable, because Billy didn’t seem to have the same difficulties in scoring dates. He would come home after school as usual, but instead of staying in and have dinner with Steve before work like he used to, he would take a couple of minutes to fix his hair, before grabbing his laptop under his arm.

“Study date”, he’d say, shortly, and leave.

Things were awkward between them, and Steve could only blame himself. Trying and failing to hide his crush had obviously only led to strange behavior which made Billy uncomfortable. He wished he could go back in time and _not_ act like a tool, but unfortunately no one had invented time travel yet, so he’d have to make it right the old-fashioned way.

That is to say, by pretending like things _weren’t_ awkward.

Ignoring the problems until they went away, that had always been Steve’s favorite way of dealing with things. It had served him well in the past.

So when Billy watched him warily over a cup of coffee in the morning, Steve made himself laugh down at his phone and then turned the screen to show Billy a cat video.

When Billy was getting ready to go out, Steve ignored the pang in his chest and wished him a good time.

And when Billy, two weeks later, walked shirtless into the kitchen with his shoulders tense and teeth clenched as if prepared for some kind of comment, Steve made a show out of _not looking_ , and asked him to make him a cup of hot chocolate while he was in there.

And it worked. Billy got less tense around him, and Steve went back to trying to ignore his crush the best he could, as to not make Billy uncomfortable. He even learned how to wait for a ‘come in’ before opening Billy’s door after knocking. Billy called it a miracle. Steve called it self-preservation. It was difficult enough trying to avoid thinking about Billy when he touched himself at night – he didn’t think he could handle any new material at this point.

A couple of weeks passed, and things were mostly back to normal. Then on a Friday night, Steve was supposed to out with a couple of friends – just the movies, and then maybe a couple of beers – but two of the friends in the group had apparently been _more than friends_ without telling anyone, and broke up in the line to the movie theatre. They caused quite a scene, and it kind of put a dampener on the mood for the night. One of them stalked off, while the other one loudly proclaimed that they were going to go out to get drunk, and Steve – who didn’t feel like taking sides – was relieved to find that he wasn’t expected to join either of them.

He went home, utterly blindsided by how the evening had turned out. Busy thinking of how he was going to handle this uncomfortable situation, he didn’t think twice about just walking into his apartment. He never thought to knock, or make himself known – after all, it was _his_ apartment – and he didn’t remember Billy’s pointed question about whether he’d stay out all night until he heard a moan coming from the kitchen.

“Baby …”

That was Billy’s voice. Ignoring all warning signs, Steve stepped around the corner to see what was going on, and stopped dead on the threshold.

Billy was –

Billy –

Steve blinked, and his mouth fell open.

Billy was _baking_. _Naked_. _In their kitchen_.

The place was a mess, and he had flour on his skin and he was holding a wooden spoon in one hand and was bent over a bowl – ass out, which, _wow_ – and he seemed to be busy staring into the webcam of his laptop on the counter. His tongue was out, and he had fucking _cake batter_ or whatever on his lips and Steve was pretty sure that he was having a stroke.

This had to be a dream, right? Billy was known to cook, after all, but Steve had never seen him bake anything in his _life_. He didn’t even know Billy _could_ bake.

_And why was he naked?_

He dropped his bag on the floor, because his brain was too busy processing to tell his fingers to keep their grip on the strap, and Billy whirled around and lost all color in his face. Like, he went worryingly pale in the span of two seconds, during which his eyes widened and his arm shot out and slammed the laptop shut, seemingly instinctively.

Billy then grabbed the bowl in the same movement and put it strategically in front of his junk (not before Steve got a good look though, which was a mental image Steve would re-visit later, in the privacy of his own room; probably many times) and leaned one hip against the counter all casual-like.

“You’re home early”, he said, with a calm voice that didn’t match the stricken look on his face.

And, _right_. Steve was supposed to act _not_ _weird_. He was supposed to be _normal_. _Not_ make Billy uncomfortable by letting his feelings shine though.

 _Normal_. Right. Steve could do normal.

“Uh, yeah.” His eyes slipped down quite without conscious thought, and fixed on the bowl. _Shit. Distract!_ “You’re … baking.”

Way to go, Steve. Avoiding the elephant in the room like a pro.

“Yeah.”

Steve licked his lips. _Casual, casual dammit_.

“What are you making?”

Billy shrugged (and Steve couldn’t help staring at his pecs).

“I don’t know. Cupcakes or some shit.” He still had batter around his mouth. Steve wanted to lick it off, and _whoa_ , that was not a casual thought at all.

“I like cupcakes”, Steve said, and immediately wanted to facepalm.

Billy only nodded, while color was slowly coming back to his face. Not the normal color though; nope, Billy was starting to blush again, and Steve –

Steve was unexpectedly assaulted by images of other situations in which Billy could be naked and messy and with flushed skin like that, and yeah, Steve needed to leave _right now_ because he didn’t have a handy bowl he could hide behind.

“I’m gonna–“ he said and pointed with his thumb over his shoulder.

“’Kay”, Billy said, and then none of them moved for another couple of seconds.

“Okay, then.”

Steve finally managed to back away and retreat into his room, locking the door behind him. He spent the rest of the night in bed, simultaneously trying to forget that the whole thing happened and commit the it all to memory so he could keep it forever.

* * *

When he woke up the next morning – late, because it took him half the night to fall asleep in the first place – he carefully ventured out into the apartment and found the kitchen spotless.

Billy was not around, but there was a single cupcake on the counter, which was obviously bought from the coffee shop down the corner. It was blueberry-flavored. Steve’s favorite.

(And if Steve leaned on the exact same spot where Billy had been standing yesterday while he peeled the paper off the pastry, then at least no one was there to see him.)

* * *

Steve was trying to keep up the normalcy in the days that followed, but it was difficult. He spent each night before going to bed – and almost every shower – remembering _in detail_ just how Billy had looked in the kitchen and fantasizing about what he had wanted to do, if things had been different. And then, without fail, he got sad. Because he knew that it was something he would never have.

Billy seemed more private, nowadays. He would lock himself in his room more often, and spend less time out in the apartment, and he almost always brought his laptop with him when he went out.

It was like he didn’t want to be anywhere near Steve, if he could help it. Steve kept his distance, as well; afraid to somehow make it worse.

And then one day, Steve walked in on Billy masturbating.

It wasn’t like it was intentional. He’d been doing better with the whole ‘don’t just barge in’ thing lately. But this time, Steve was about to take a shower when he heard a weird noise, and then something metallic snapped and a pipe started spewing water all over the floor and he _panicked_ , okay?

Having tried, and failed, to stop the water with a towel, he ran out into the living room and charged into Billy’s room – without knocking, naturally, because this was a literal _emergency_ – only wearing his underwear.

“There’s water all over the bathr–“

And Steve trailed off, because Billy was there, right on top of his bed, sprawled out like a vision. He had a hand around himself and his head was thrown back and Steve’s eyes, for some reason, got stuck on the line of his throat and he forgot how to form words.

Billy looked up, met Steve’s eye, froze, and then glanced towards the end of the bed where, Steve now saw, his computer was set up. And Steve couldn’t see the screen, but Billy was obviously putting on a show for someone – and the realization was like a punch to the gut. Because Billy had never actually brought anyone home with him for as long as they’d been roommates, and Steve hadn’t really considered it before but now that he thought about it it made so much sense.

Billy was obviously in a relationship. A long-distance relationship, from the looks of things. It would explain the half-naked selfies, the laptop in the bathroom, the way Billy kept bringing his laptop with him when he went out, the _baking incident_ –

Billy had a girlfriend, and she was obviously the kinky sort. Steve could feel his heart shrivel up in his chest as understanding dawned on him.

This was not something he felt he was equipped to handle right now, so he managed to squeak out “Leak in the bathroom” before slamming the door shut and retreating into his room, not giving a flying fuck about the impending water damage.

He heard Billy rush out into their apartment and run into the bathroom, heard him curse and get some tools and then some metallic banging, and when the sounds of running water stopped, the front door slammed shut and Steve realized abruptly that he couldn’t stay here. He _couldn’t._

So he pulled on his clothes, packed a bag, and left.

He went to Robin’s place. She lived on the other side of town, in an apartment she shared with a roommate slash girlfriend (depending on when and who you asked) and she worked more than full time as a barista, which Steve had used to his advantage many times in the past when he’d been in the neighborhood and had had a craving for coffee. Now, though, he was going to need something stronger than that, which he told her when she opened the door.

Her roommate (“ _Girlfriend_ , Steve, we’re okay now”) was out of town, so Steve slept on Robin’s couch for the two following nights. She brought him coffee in the morning, and then he went to school, and in the evenings he went to his internship, and then he bought her dinner on the way back and they spent the late hours talking. The first night, Robin was understanding of Steve’s plights and drank with him and nodded at all the right places when Steve complained about his situation – like the good friend that she had proven to be.

The second night, the gloves were off; sshe laughed and rolled her eyes at him, told him that he was crushing on Billy _hard_ , teased him about it, and promptly told him to man up and go back home – like the _awful_ (great) friend that she also was.

“Was I that obvious?” Steve said, miserable and a little drunk.

“Yup”, Robin said and nodded sagely. “I can’t believe Billy hasn’t caught on yet.”

“But that’s the _thing_!” Steve exclaimed. “He _knows_. And it’s so _awkward_ , because I keep messing up and I can’t stop _staring_ at him … like, his abs look photoshopped, Robin, I want to _lick_ them –“

“Ew, gross.”

“– and I know that he knows because he keeps acting so weird around me now, and it sucks because I –“

He went quiet. Robin nudged him in the shoulder to make him continue. “You what?”

“I really like him”, he said, voice small.

“Oh Steve”, Robin said, shook her head and pulled him into a hug. “Are you one hundred percent sure that it’s your crush that’s making it awkward?”

“What else could it be?” Steve grumbled into her sweatshirt.

“Oh, I don’t know. The fact that you keep walking in on him in embarrassing situations, maybe? Run me through the whole baking-in-the-nude-thing again.”

“He wouldn’t be awkward about that. It’s _Billy_. He doesn’t know how to _spell_ modesty.”

“Yeah, but still. You _did_ walk in on him jerking off. That might bother him more than the fact that you have a crush. Which I’m still not sure he knows yet, to be honest, because my experience tells me that boys are dumb about these things.”

“I thought you were on my side, here”, Steve complained.

“I _am_ on your side, dingus”, she said, and he smiled at the nickname. “But you can’t avoid him forever. You _live_ with him, for fuck’s sake. So what if you saw him naked? Half of campus has seen him naked, probably, by now.”

Steve opened his mouth, but Robin continued. “And so what if you’re having a bisexual meltdown over him? Half of campus has probably been there, too.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry”, she said, holding up her hands and not looking sorry at all. “I’m just saying, it sucks if he’s got a girlfriend, sure, but you need to go home and face him eventually. You can’t just walk in on the guy like that and then run off and live on my couch.”

“Sounds like a solid plan to me”, Steve muttered.

“Well, it’s not. And besides, Hayley is coming back tomorrow and you need to be out of here by then. So you should definitely, like, either sit him down and talk to him about it – confess your feelings in a grand fashion –“

“Yeah, not gonna happen.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes again. “– or pretend nothing’s wrong and ignore it ever happened.”

He pointed at her. “That one. I’m gonna do that one.”

That was apparently cause for yet another eyeroll.

“Boys”, she said under her breath. “So fucking dumb.”

Steve was pretty sure she meant for him to hear it.

* * *

He went home in the morning. Robin’s girlfriend was due back around noon, and Robin basically shooed him out of there right after breakfast. It was Saturday, which meant no school or internship, so Steve’s only hope was that Billy might not be home. That he was working, or was out, or something.

He knocked on the door before putting his key in the lock – don’t let anyone say that Steve Harrington couldn’t learn new things! – but the door swung open before he could open it himself. Billy was standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and with his mouth open to speak, but only for a second. Then, his face shut down, and he took a step back to let Steve into the apartment.

“You’re back”, he said between clenched teeth.

And _shit_ , it was still awkward. Steve looked away and shrugged. “Yeah.”

The silence grew, and grew, and Steve felt as if he was going to explode. He thought about what Robin said – either sit down and talk about it, or pretend like it didn’t happen – and naturally picked the wrong one.

“I was gonna go out and get some lunch”, he said and gestured at the door behind him, still not looking at Billy. “Do you want anything?” And then, because he should be supportive of Billy’s choices, or whatever, he added, “Or maybe you have other plans?”

Billy drew in a breath, and when Steve looked up his face was twisted into something ugly. Steve’s heart skipped a beat in his chest.

“What?”

“You’re a fucking piece of work, Harrington.” And oh, it was _anger_ , that ugly thing on Billy’s face.

“What?”

“You know, I actually thought better of you!”

And Steve was a little lost, but of course, he’d been away for two days and Billy had had plenty of time to stew. He was allowed to be angry, but it wasn’t like Steve walked in on him on purpose!

“I didn’t exactly plan for this, you know.”

“Oh, I know. I got the message loud and clear!” And Billy might be angry, but he was actually backing away instead of looming over Steve, and somehow that felt wrong. “Don’t worry. I’ll leave.”

That threw Steve for a loop. “What?”

“I need a couple of days to find another place, but then I’ll be out of your perfectly-styled hair.”

“I–“ Steve said, because he did not understand what was happening right now. “What are you _talking_ about?”

“I’ll move out. It obviously makes you uncomfortable.”

“Look”, Steve said, because awkwardness was one thing, but Billy _leaving_ was a whole different deal. “You don’t have to leave on my account. I’ll …” He swallowed. “I’ll get used to it.”

“’Get used to it’?” Billy echoed, doubtful.

And okay, Steve thought he deserved at least a little credit, here. After all, he’d been struggling with his crush for months, and it wasn’t like it was causing any major problems before Billy started to work out in his underwear or bake in the nude. But Steve took a breath and pointedly _didn’t say that_. Because he was trying to be the bigger man, here.

“Yeah. I mean. Maybe try not to be so … lovey-dovey where I can see it, but? I mean, I can handle it. I will. I can do it.”

“’Lovey-dovey’?” Billy parroted, incredulous. “ _’Handle it_ ’!?”

“Maybe you can even invite them over some time?” Steve suggested, and ignored the lump in his throat at the mere thought of Billy with someone else. “Maybe just, um, let me know when, and I’ll make sure to be … somewhere else.”

Billy was gaping at him, and then his face morphed into a mask of fury before he backed Steve against a wall and jabbed a finger in his chest.

“What the _hell_ , Harrington, what the fuck is your problem!?”

Steve found himself looking into Billy’s red face, door handle digging into his back, and he could feel himself getting angry, too. He was _trying_ here, couldn’t Billy see that?

“ _My_ problem?” He grabbed Billy’s finger and wrenched it away. “I’m trying to work with you here, and you’re being in my face about it!”

“ _Invite them ov_ – What is it that you think I _do_ , Harrington?”

“Well I’ll rather not think too closely about that, if you don’t mi–“

“I’m a camboy, Harrington, not a whore!”

And Steve opened his mouth, ready to reply, but then the words registered and no words came out. He blinked.

“You’re a what?”

“I’m not a whore.”

“You–“ Steve went slack, and Billy’s finger was back at his chest, digging in.

“I need the money, Harrington, but I am not _that_ fucking desperate, okay? I have standards – give me some basic credit, at least.”

“You’re a …” Steve was doing his best to try to wrap his mind around this whole situation, because he was only now realizing that they were probably talking about two different things. He tried the word out. “Camboy. You’re a camboy.”

Billy’s face, impossibly, went even darker, and if Steve wasn’t so busy trying to work this out, he might have been intimidated.

“Just because you’re rich it doesn’t mean that _some_ of us doesn’t have to actually _work_ to make rent, you _absolute asshole_.”

“But you have a job already”, Steve said, dumbly, while processing.

“Yeah, and it pays like shit”, Billy said. “You wouldn’t understand, you’re like, filthy rich.”

And Steve was about to address that, he was _going_ to address that, but one thought suddenly popped up in his brain, and it was a question that demanded an immediate answer.

“So wait … you _don’t_ have a girlfriend, then?”

Billy stared at Steve as if he’s grown a second head. “A _girlfriend_? No, Steve, I don’t have a fucking _girlfriend_.”

Steve was … Steve felt lighter, all of a sudden, and he smiled sheepishly. “I thought you had a girlfriend.”

“ _Why on earth_ would you think I had a _girlfriend_!?” Billy looked like he was going to pop a vessel, and Steve was suddenly filled with fondness.

“I don’t know? You kept … you know, with the computer, and you … called someone ‘baby’ and you were _baking naked_ , dude, I just figured–“

“Oh my god”, Billy said, while staring at Steve. He looked like he’d just realized something. “Heather was right. You’re so fucking stupid.”

“ _Hey_!” Steve felt the need to defend himself, but Billy held up a hand.

“Harrington”, he said. “You didn’t know I was a camboy before now, did you?” He sounded like he knew the answer already, but needed a confirmation. Steve shook his head, and it made Billy groan and hide his face in his hands. Then he looked up again, strangely earnest. “Do you even know what a camboy _is_?”

And Steve was not stupid, okay? He knew what a camboy was. Kinda. It had something to do with … sex. And, apparently, baking. He told Billy this, and got to watch his roommate wince.

“That’s … uh. Not _wrong_ , but.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s just say I’m a performer. Online. For people who are willing to pay.”

“Perf– _Oh_.”

“Yeah.”

“Sooo, the baking thing was …?”

And now Billy’s face was all red again, but this time without any anger. He was scratching the back of his head, obviously trying to play it cool. “That was … not a normal request. The guy paid triple my usual fee. Figured it was worth it.”

 _It was_ , Steve thought but didn’t say. And then, “Wait, ‘guy’?”

Billy made a ‘duh’-gesture. “Most consumers of porn _are_ male, yes. But I had no idea you’d be coming home early, or I wouldn’t have done it.”

“So when you were working out in your underwear, that was also a … camboy thing?”

“Yup. That’s a surprisingly popular request.”

“Not _that_ surprising …”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I really thought you knew”, Billy said, “or at least _suspected_. You got all awkward and wouldn’t look at me for days, and you told me to stay out of sight when your friends came over –“

 _Shit_. Steve kind of felt like an asshole, now. “I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t trying to … flaunt it, or anything, you just kept walking in on me! And then acting so _disgusted_ , like … anyway, it just. It pays really well, and I’ve been trying to save up some money, ‘cause I really don’t wanna owe you anymore –“

“What are you talking about, you don’t owe me anything.”

“You pay most of the rent!”

“Yeah, and you do all the work!”

Billy huffed. “That’s because you’re a slob.”

“Yes, okay, _point_ , but I’m a slob with rich parents, so it makes sense that I pay more! We agreed on this.”

“It was supposed to be temporary.” And _oh_. Needless to say, Steve hadn’t seen it as a temporary solution at all. Billy continued, “Well I can pay you back. Now.”

“Because … because you’ve been … _working_?”

And oh great, now that Steve knew what Billy had been doing, he was trying to imagine exactly how Billy earned that money. And they were in the middle of a serious discussion, now was _not_ the time for those kind of thoughts!

“Yeah.”

 _Working._ The image of Billy on his bed, with his head thrown back and his hand wrapped around himself popped up in Steve’s brain, and his eyes widened. He knew he should say something, but he was honestly afraid of what would come out if he did, so he snapped his mouth shut. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to do, because Billy seemed to fold in on himself, somehow.

“Look, I can still move out, but I’m gonna need some time to find–“

“What, no! No! Why would you do that?”

“You’re obviously uncomfortable, Harrington, I–“

“Yeah, because I keep walking in on you naked and I’m trying really hard not to jump you and crowd you against the nearest surface!”

… And this was _exactly_ why Steve was afraid to open his mouth.

“What.”

“Uh.”

Billy’s face fell. “Don’t do this to me, man.”

“Do what?” Steve felt as if he was getting whiplash from all the sharp turns lately.

“Don’t … don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not –“ _What the hell is going on??_ “I’m not making fun of you!”

Billy dragged a hand through his hair (Steve spared a second to wish it was _his_ hand). “I know I haven’t exactly been subtle, but you don’t have to … throw it in my face like that. Not cool.”

Steve, still standing with his back against the door, threw his hands up in exasperation. “I swear I have no idea of what you’re talking about!”

Billy glared at him. “My fucking _crush_ , or whatever. I mean, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t have to change anything, I’m –“

“Wait wait wait, hang on, _time out_!” Steve said and made a ‘T’ with his hands. “ _Your_ crush? I thought the problem here was _my_ crush!”

Billy made a face. “ _Your_ crush?”

Now it was Steve’s turn to put a finger to Billy’s chest – and it felt fucking electric. “I am so fucking crazy about you, man.”

Billy made a little sound, and Steve suddenly wanted nothing else but to hear _more_ of it. More sounds. _All_ the sounds. And he was starting to realize that maybe, maybe they’ve been misunderstanding a _lot_ of things.

He tried out this new theory immediately. “I’m serious, I’m so fucking gone for you it’s insane.” Billy did not back away. That was a good sign. “It’s been driving me crazy to see you walking around all –” He gestured at _all of Billy_. “– when all I’ve wanted to do was _lick_ you.”

Billy briefly closed his eyes and _groaned_ , and that was officially Steve’s new favorite sound in the whole world.

“Are you serious?” Billy said, blinking his eyes open. “You’re not fucking with me?”

And Steve was only human; he couldn’t be expected to resist that kind of setup. “No, but I’d sure _like_ _to._ ”

Billy let out a startled laugh, and then his lips were on Steve’s and they were kissing. Kissing, as in Billy’s lips were finally on Steve’s, and his arms were around Steve’s waist, and then Steve’s back was against a wall again and there was _tongue_ –

But then Billy stopped, and took a step back (and Steve was not proud of the way his hands reached out to grab at Billy’s shirt, okay, but it was _instinct_ ). He licked his lips and asked, “What about what’sherface?”

“What?” Steve asked, because _what?_ “Who?”

“That girl you went on a date with? The one who was here when you asked me to stay out of sight.”

Steve winced. When Billy put it like that, Steve kind of fucked up in more ways than one.

“Lydia? No, I– Okay, first of all, I went on _one date_ with her because I was trying to get over you and she asked, and that’s all there was. And it was a bad date anyway. And second of all, I didn’t ask you to stay out of sight.”

Billy opened his mouth to argue and Steve briefly considered kissing him again to shut him up, but decided on explaining instead. “Okay, fine, I could have handled that differently. But, she basically only came over because she was interested in _you_ , and I kinda didn’t want you to walk around wearing _nothing_ when she was around.”

Billy gave him a Look. “So you were jealous?”

“No”, Steve said, because there was nothing to be jealous _of_. “I just didn’t want to share you.” Which was a totally different thing.

“Mhm”, Billy says and made no move to resume kissing – which Steve thought was frankly unfair after him being so honest – so he had to do it himself. Billy melted into it pretty quickly, like he did this sort of thing _all the time_ , and –

Wait a minute.

This time it was Steve who broke off their kiss, and Billy who was left frowning.

“Hang on”, Steve said. “What about _you_?”

“What about me?”

Steve poked him in the chest (and had to resist the urge to do more than that). “You’re flirting with everyone!”

“I’m … yes?” Steve raised his eyebrows when it didn’t look like Billy considered this a bad thing. “Oh come on, that’s just flirting. It’s not real. It never leads anywhere.”

And that was actually a … convincing argument … Steve found, especially when Billy went back to what he was doing; peppering tiny kisses along Steve’s jawline, which was proving to be very distracting.

“You’re the only one I want, pretty boy.”

Very convincing, very –

But no. Steve pushed Billy back a step, and this time Billy actually looked annoyed.

“If that’s true, then how come you’ve been flirting with everyone _but_ me?!”

Taking a step back of his own volition this time, Billy cocked his head to the side. “What are you talking about? I could not have been more obvious!”

“You _could_ , believe me!” Because Steve would have _known_ , if that was true.

Throwing his head back and groaning in frustration, Billy held his hands up and started ticking things off his fingers. “I’ve been making you dinner – from scratch. I do your laundry, and even separate your colors from your whites. I even _fold_ it for you, dude. I wake you up in the morning and make you breakfast and make sure you’re eating, or did you think those sandwiches in the fridge that you take every other morning just end up there by magic? I’ve been giving you massages and letting you watch those god-awful reality shows even though they fry your brain – and you honestly don’t have a lot of brain cells left. I help you _study_ –“

“Yeah, while rolling your eyes”, Steve added, but something like realization was dawning on him, and he could feel a blush creep up on his face. He felt all warm and tingly inside.

“– I’ve been helping you with your schoolwork and your essays and I helped you with that teacher when you needed to retake that test. I go grocery shopping because I know that you hate it and I learned how to make hot chocolate the way you like it –“ Here, he had to stop and take a breath (Steve was grateful, he was getting worried). “Did you really think I do those things for just anyone?”

“Um”, Steve said, cleverly. Come to think of it, Billy didn’t _do_ things for other people, at least not unless he had something to gain from it. Because Billy was still an asshole, just … not to Steve. “I thought it was because I was paying more of the rent …?”

Billy’s eyes darkened, and he turned on his heel and stalked back towards his room.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I’m going to get you your goddamn money and pay you back the rent, fuck!”

“No, no, wait!” Steve said and ran after him and got a hand around his arm, stopping him in his step. “You _really_ don’t have to.”

“Well I’m gonna. Or else you’ll think that I’m doing what I’m doing because I owe you shit.”

“You don’t owe me shit.”

“Soon, I don’t. I’ve been working for months, I’ve got cash now.”

“Listen”, and now Steve had a good grip on both of his upper arms, and was momentarily distracted by how warm he was. “That’s _so_ not the point. How about, we’ll split the rent from now on?”

Billy said nothing at first, but then he nodded, sharply. “Fine. And we’ll share the chores, too?” And there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye now, the bastard. “I’m sure you can’t wait to get your hands on some cleaning supplies.”

Steve made a face, and Billy laughed. It was a pretty great laugh. Steve wouldn’t mind hearing more of it.

“How about you clean, and I cook?”

“You can’t cook.”

“You clean, I buy takeout?”

“Now we’re talking.”

Steve smiled, and went in for another kiss, and Billy let him. Steve could _feel_ his smile against his own.

“And you can maybe learn to knock, finally”, Billy murmured against his skin. “Now that you know what I do for a living.”

That made sense, it did, but Steve had something else in mind entirely.

“Mmm”, he therefore said. “Or how about next time you have work, you let me know so I can watch?”

**Author's Note:**

> Did I just write 10K of Billy being a camboy and not include a SINGLE moment of smut, or even a description of anything remotely sexy? Yes, yes I did. You see, sex was one of the things I was NOT comfortable writing, and "camboy" was at the top of socknonny's wish list so ... well. This happened. I'm sorry, and I hope you're not too disappointed! :o
> 
> Also, three more things:  
> 1\. I know nothing about the American school system and I'm too lazy to research it. Just roll with it.  
> 2\. I had to research what a camboy was before starting this fic. It was traumatizing. I didn't get very far in my research, so I kinda went off on a tangent and made things up. Hope it works, somewhat.  
> 3\. The cat video mentioned is the hilarious one of one of those furless cats in a sweater falling off a table. It makes me cry with laughter every time! XD


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